Reflections
by Graveygraves
Summary: Emily is in hiding but Clyde Easter has once last favour to ask her. She agrees but not without having to reflect on her life so far. Please R&R. This has been beta'd
1. Chapter 1

**Reflections**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**This is set post ****'****Lauren****'****. Emily is doing her best to keep her head down and appear dead. But Clyde Easter needs her help one last time.**

. . . .

"True friendship is like sound health; the value of it is seldom known until it be lost."  
><strong>Charles Caleb Colton<strong>

. . . . . . . 

Emily sat nervously at the table. She didn't know what she was expecting. Clyde had contacted her, letting her know what he expected, but not letting her know what to expect.

She added two sugars to the black coffee in front of her. She had never liked sugar in her coffee, but the meds made her crave sweetness, must be to counteract their bitterness. As she stirred in the sugar her mind flitted to Reid and his sugar cravings. She wondered if his headaches were any better, if he had managed to talk to anyone else about it. A day did not pass without her thinking about the team. No matter which country she was currently calling 'home' some daily action remaindered her of what she had lost.

Her patience was wearing thin. She was supposed to be here by now. Emily looked around nervously. No matter how much she hated the enforced solitude that her death had bought, she had become overtly apprehensive of public places. No-one had her back here.

Looking up she noticed a toned raven haired girl walking towards the cafe. Her breath hitched - Clyde had to be kidding.

The girl walked purposely towards Emily and sat down opposite her. To any passer by the two would look like sisters. Emily was surprised that two perfect strangers could look so alike. She briefly wondered if it was possible, on her mother's travels, for her to have had a love child, and left that child to be brought up aboard. Then she remembered it was her mother; the perfect example of ambassadorial etiquette.

The stranger seemed unaffected by their similarity, but Emily couldn't get over the feeling she was looking in a mirror. Reluctantly she admitted to herself it was more like an image of her ten years ago, not a reflection of the woman she was today. But still the likeness was beyond spooky.

"Catherine?" the woman asked softly.

Emily froze. She hadn't once stumbled on the use of her new name, until now, but the flood of feelings this woman invoked over took all reason.

"Oui," she finally managed.

"Bonjour, je suis Michelle," the stranger introduced herself.

Gathering her thoughts together and trying desperately hard to concentrate, Emily continued the conversation in French.

"Clyde recommended you visit, for your vacation then?"

"Indeed, he said you would be more than happy to tell me all I need to know, about the area."

Emily knew they were both skirting around the real issue, the issue that they could not discuss in public.

"I could give you a brief tour tonight. Then maybe you could come and see me tomorrow, to go into more detail," Emily offered.

"That sounds good to me," Michelle smiled.

. . . .

When Emily got back to her small villa later that evening she was confused. Part of her wanted to grab Michelle and shake her, the other half admired her. She wasn't sure she would have faced Doyle the first time, if she was fully aware of all it would entail.

Sitting outside, with a large glass of red wine, Emily couldn't help but wonder if that was what she was like, when she first joined Interpol. She remembered how head strong and determined she had been back then. They probably did warn her, but as always, she heard what she wanted to hear. _Was it that keenness that had led her to take the path she did? Or was that always her fate? _Emily had never been a believer in fate. Not until she had been exiled. Then she looked at any possible explanation that led to her life of solitude.

Sipping the wine slowly she looked back over the choices she had made. Trying to pick out what had motivated her to follow the direction she had. She snorted as she realised that most of the decisions she had made in her teens and twenties resolved around aggravating her mother. She truly was a rebel without a clue back then.

But since joining the BAU she had calmed. She no longer felt the pressure to prove who she was to her mother. Her colleagues were more important than her mother had ever been. All she had ever wanted was their approval, their respect. She knew the reason she had originally been given the job in the BAU, Strauss wanted an in house spy, but Emily had ignored that. Emily had fought every step of the way, until she was truly one of them, one of the family. Yet when she had needed them most, she had thrown everything they had given her back at them. She had left them, without an explanation. She had caused them to grieve, for their own protection. She had done it for them, but they would never know that.

As she sat there lost in her own thoughts Derek Morgan's final words came back to her:

"I am so proud of you. Do you understand that? I am proud of you because you are my friend and you are my partner. No Emily, come on, stay with me."

Maybe they did know, maybe they did understand why she did what she did.

Emily hadn't realised how tightly she had gripped the wine glass until the stem snapped, cutting into her hand. She looked down at the blood, the pain barely registering with her. She watched as the first drip hit the floor. It should be her facing him again, it was her battle not anyone else's.

. . . .

Michelle returned to her hotel room. She had seen photos of Emily Prentiss as she needed to be able to recognise her to meet tonight. Looking in the mirror at her own reflection she couldn't help but wonder if she had seen a flash of her own future tonight. Ten years down the line would she be alone, bitter and scared.

Before meeting Emily, Michelle had felt on top of the world. She was good at her job and well known for it. She enjoyed the challenge – both physically and mentally. It was all she lived for, but was she ready to die for it?

Meeting Emily made her question her life for the first time. She was willing to take on this case, to go after Doyle and get close enough to kill him. She maybe barely thirty, but he wouldn't be her first assassination. Probably not her last – if she survived.

She had read the notes and reports; she knew what Doyle had done to Emily. _Would she really be able to get close enough to him to do this?_ As Clyde had explained, this had to be close at hand, not long range. _Someone had to put a bullet between his eyes. _There could be no doubt that he was dead. Yet getting that close to him put herself at risk. If he figured out whom she was then he would kill her, then she could only hope he did it quickly.

Michelle had never questioned an assignment before, but right now she wondered if Clyde was thinking straight; after all his life was also dependent on Doyle dying.


	2. Chapter 2

**Reflections**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**This is a three part story - will get finial part up over the weekend.  
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**. . . . .**

Emily woke up early and went downstairs to make a pot of coffee. She took a large cup outside and leant against the wall. The air was cool, she was only in her pyjamas, but it was worth it for the remains of the beautiful sunrise. It was moments like this that Emily realised how she had lived in the fast lane for so long. She had rarely got a moment to breath in her career choices. She had always been on the move – 'Go-bag' at the ready. But now she could enjoy the simplest things.

Hugging her coffee for warmth, she thought about the day ahead. When Clyde had contacted her and asked her to brief Michelle about Doyle she had jumped at the chance. Yet now she was not so sure. Emily had realised she had agreed out of the wish for some company. Not to share her extensive knowledge of the man who tried to kill her, and had, for all intents and purposes, succeeded.

Doyle was the last person she wanted to talk about. Without realising what she was doing she started to trace the shape of the brand on her chest, she could feel the slight bump of it through her cotton pyjama vest top. Every day he was there, with her, mocking her. He had won. Emily battled daily to keep him out of her head, but she was losing the battle.

Watching the sky lose its pinkish tinge as the sun rose higher, Emily took inspiration in the new day. Michelle was an opportunity, a chance to regain everything Doyle had taken away. She had to grab this chance and make the most of it, or spent her life hiding.

. . . . .

Michelle knocked tentatively on Emily's door, as she did so, she looked around her surroundings. She had taken every precaution not to be followed, but you could never be too careful.

Michelle heard the sound of the lock moving. Emily opened the door a crack, recognising Michelle she opened it wider and welcomed her in, looking around before she shut the door and locked it. She could never be too careful. If Doyle got a hint she was alive he would hunt her down and finish what he started.

Emily led Michelle through to her open plan kitchen dinner. She offered a coffee, which was accepted.

"Shall we take these outside?" Emily asked.

She liked being outside, it was like being free, over the months she had become increasingly claustrophobic. Michelle nodded in agreement.

As they sat and took in the view neither knew how to start the conversation.

"What has Clyde told you?" Michelle finally asked.

"That they have a plan to draw Doyle out, to finish him," Emily's tone was bitter.

"Did they tell you how?"

Emily shrugged, to be honest she didn't care, as long as he was dead, she could live again. At the time she hadn't asked Clyde for details – she knew how it worked; you were only ever told what you needed to know. However, now, sitting opposite the young woman obviously charged with luring Doyle out, she wanted to know what was expected of her.

"Do you know much about your assignment?" Emily asked cautiously.

"I have read all the records; I know what I'm supposed to do. Doyle isn't my first task," Michelle paused "I probably shouldn't tell you but I am to assassinate him. They have obviously picked me because of my resemblance to you. Clyde is hoping it with throw him enough to let me get close. Make him think he's seen a ghost and then . . ."

Emily nodded slowly, Clyde didn't change, he played hard and fast, he hated waiting. Long term assignments were always Sean's responsibility. She wondered who would balance Clyde now that Sean was dead.

"So, what do you want from me? You said yourself that you have read the files."

"I need your personal opinion. You have met him, you can tell me things that are not down on paper," Michelle's head dropped, she couldn't meet Emily's eye, "I can't imagine how hard this must be for you but I need to protect myself. This is probably the biggest risk I have taken so far."

Emily started to pick up on her nervousness, she was different to the confident young woman she had met for the first time the night before. She sighed. Emily had to help Michelle; it was her responsibility to make her as ready as possible for facing _him_.

"Where should I start? As you know he was the leader of a breakaway faction of the IRA. His code name was 'Valhalla'. He came to our attention once he left the Provisional IRA and formed the breakaway cell," Emily knew she was repeating what Michelle already knew but somehow it helped to calm her.

Michelle nodded politely, letting Emily take her time – she was in no rush.

"He became an increasingly dangerous person; his actions were controlled but unpredictable. He planned meticulously, but was always motivated by a deep seated anger. After he was arrested Doyle was imprisoned at Camp 22, a North Korean political prison, for seven years, none of us knew this at the time. It's a known hellhole, but it's not our place to ask questions. Once the team has done their bit, we walk away. I have no doubt that he suffered in those seven years and this lead to him swearing revenge against those who destroyed his life," Emily paused for a breath.

"In addition to his imprisonment I took away what he loved most, his son. I knew nothing of his imprisonment or escape until Sean told me that Doyle had got out and was off the grid. It was then that we all knew we were in danger. Another coffee?" Emily wanted the distraction.

"No, I'm fine."

"Doyle started with Jeremy; he made it look like a stroke. Doyle tends to use guns or poison, which is unusual for a man, statistically women are more likely to use poison to murder," Emily smiled, thinking that Reid would be able to give the exact statistic. "We now know that he then used the alias 'Chuck Murray' to enter the US undetected. The name came from his bloody dog. He loved that dog."

"Isn't that unusual for a psychopath?"

"It is believed that psychopaths are incapable of love, but Doyle was different. He did love, or at least presented as if he was capable of love. Who knows?" she shrugged.

Shortly after he arrived I started to get phone calls, gifts, the usual signs of someone stalking you. In the end I agreed to meet him."

"You met Doyle? On your own?" Michelle seemed surprised.

Emily nodded.

"That was when he threatened my team, my BAU team," Emily spoke with added venom in her voice; it was obvious to Michelle that this was the point that it became personal, her own stresser.

"This was also the start of his killing spree. He started with the team of handlers he had in North Korea, and their families. This was also when the BAU got invited in. I was sent out to bring in the last member of the team with SSA Morgan," Emily's mind wandered.

Derek Morgan, he had tried so hard to help her, to reach out to her. She knew how hard it was for him to trust people, but he had trusted her and she had thrown it all back at him. Yet even after that he had still come for her, held her, and comforted her. She didn't deserve friends like him.

"We were too late, Doyle and his team fired on us. It was luck that Morgan never got hurt."

Michelle noted that she showed concern for her colleague's safety, not hers.

"One of Doyle's men was injured in the crossfire. Doyle killed him to try and slow the BAU down. It didn't work, they soon had his name. Then the hunt began. Doyle proceeded to kill Tsia and Sean. Then I knew I was next, he had warned me I would wait for my turn, but the only other member of the team still alive was Clyde. So I did the only thing I could. I went looking for Doyle, and I found him or he found me, I'm still not one hundred percent sure how it would be interpreted. I need a coffee."

Emily got up and walked inside. She hadn't really talked to anyone about Doyle since he had held her captive. Yes she'd answered the questions when she came round in hospital but she was so heavily reliant on the meds she couldn't clearly remember what she had said.

Holding onto the work surface, as she waited for the new pot of coffee, she strived to control her emotions. She wasn't going to break down; she had to be able to hold it together. Michelle had come for facts not an emotional breakdown.

Returning outside with a tray with coffee, cream and sugar, Emily tried hard to pour the coffee without shaking.

"While I was his hostage he tortured me," Emily gulped, deciding that was enough detail, she could read the rest; "I told him Declan, his son, was still alive, I know I shouldn't have but I did. Clyde now knows everything, Declan is safe, and we have made sure of that."

"None us know how we'll react in that situation. You should be proud that have survived," Michelle tried to encourage the woman she was starting to admire.

Emily didn't feel pride in her actions, she felt she had failed. She had let everyone down, herself included.

"Doyle is organized, meticulous and very driven. Coming after us he was driven by a need for revenge and would not let anyone stand in his way. That is how he gets what he wants, railroading through anything that gets in his way. He may be off the grid, but he will not be slumming it. Ian liked a somewhat extravagant lifestyle, he wouldn't sacrifice that, he felt he'd earned it. Doyle is serious about what he does and doesn't play games, everything he does has a purpose to him, even if that is not clear to everyone else. He is also highly controlling and very explosive when his plans go wrong. Does that help?"

Michelle nodded, obviously deep in thought. "One last question, you lived with him, knew him personally. What can you tell me about him that is not in the files? What will help me get his attention?"

Emily could see the fear in her eyes. She knew how she was feeling, how it felt just before an assignment.

"He is charming, confident, loving, but it's all an act. Psychopaths do not feel emotions the way we do, but can mimic them, to present a normal front. Do not be fooled by his charisma, he is dangerous. If he suspects you, he will kill you. Trust your instincts and walk away if it's not right. You have nothing to prove. It is better to fail and be alive then try and be dead," Emily paused wondering if her words were falling on deaf ears. "You are an intelligent young woman with a promising future, don't bow to pressure and compromise yourself in anyway."

"Maybe it's time I left," Michelle finally said.

Emily showed her out. Closing the door, she stood there a while, back against the wooden door. She wondered if she had made a difference.

_Would it have made a difference to her if someone had spoken to her like that when she was in Interpol? Would she have listened?_


	3. Chapter 3

**Reflections**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas**

**This is set a few months later than chapter 2 ****–**** all will become clear soon (I hope). This is this stories ends - but there maybe a sequel in the future.  
><strong>

**Thank you to Flashpenguin for Beta'ing this for me.  
><strong>

. . . . . . .

Emily was busy unpacking the few things that she took with her. She had learnt to live lightly and now brought a whole new meaning to minimize with each move she made. She tried to move once a month, but still insisted on unpacking her treasured processions. It was things that she used to try to trick her mind that each new abode was really a home. But deep down nowhere was home now.

As she reached the bottom of the box she dropped onto the couch. She knew it was against protocol, but she had persuaded JJ to do one favour for her. She curled up with the battered, midnight blue photo album on her lap, not sure if she was currently strong enough to open it.

She closed her eyes and thought back to that moment. The moment when she woke, in hospital, JJ sat beside her. She now knew that JJ had pulled every string she could to be the one that sat waiting. It should have been Clyde dealing with her, but JJ had insisted it be a friend. JJ always appeared fragile, but that woman had a will of steel, and god help anyone who crossed her, Emily thought.

She remembered the tears in JJ's eyes, the tears that she never let fall, not in Emily's presence anyway. JJ had gently explained that she was officially dead and had been taken into hiding. She told how, as soon as she was fit enough she would moved abroad, where she would be issued with new identities and the means by which to live, while Interpol continued to track down and deal with Doyle.

Emily shuddered as she recalled how she reacted. Thinking about it now, she was not sure if it was more heart-breaking being told by your best friend, that near enough all you colleagues thought you were dead. That your friends had grieved at your graveside. Somehow Clyde's impersonal nature may have made it easier, but either way, it was a bitter pill to swallow.

It was then, in the floods of tears, she had begged JJ to do one things for her. To break the rules. She had asked JJ to retrieve the photo album from her apartment. As someone who had spent her whole life moving around, she had learnt that processions were not important, it was the memories that went with you, where ever that may be. Emily had started compiling the photo album as a young girl. Only the most precious, cherished moments of her life were recorded in there. She wasn't living without it.

JJ agreed; she knew she shouldn't and if anyone found out it would be a disciplinary matter. Yet that didn't bother her. She smuggled the album in the day before they moved Emily to another hospital, to recuperate. She didn't see JJ again until Paris. She longed to see her friend again, to hear stories of Henry.

Slowly she turned towards the back of the album, finding a picture of her and JJ out will Henry at the zoo. She smiled as she remembered his face as he saw the animals for the first time. In the picture, that Will had taken, Henry was on Emily's lap enjoying a rather messy ice-cream. As she smiled at the memory a tear rolled down her cheek.

Flicking through the following pages she came to the only picture she had of the whole team. It was taken at a BBQ at Hotch's, the summer after Haley died. God that had been a difficult year for everyone; however there they all were for each other, a family. Staring at the photo she noticed for the first time the rare smile on Hotch's face. He had been reluctant to accept the teams help to begin with, but they didn't give up, they fought Foyet with him, whether he wanted them or not. They were patient, silently supportive, there were there, regardless.

She had denied herself their support. Hindsight was an amazing thing, she would have done things differently if she had of been able to think clearly back then. However Doyle had got in her head. She thought she was making appropriate decisions, but now she could see where she went wrong.

As she turned the final few pages, each was dominated by members of her BAU family. They had become her life in the last few years, no-one else mattered, not even her true flesh and blood.

Emily laughed, at the photo of her, Penelope and JJ on their way out one Halloween. Garcia head to toe in sparkly pink, fairy wand and wings, JJ as a princess and herself sleekly dressed as a black cat.

But soon the smiles turned to more tears. She was so grateful JJ had managed to get the album to her, but the pain that came each time she realised was she had lost was becoming unbearable.

Turning back to the picture of the whole team, she touched each in turn, as if hoping she could she could reach them through the photos. She missed the simplest of things; Hotch's guidance and glare, Rossi's support and sarcasm, Reid's random facts and caring nature, Morgan's protectiveness and cheek, Garcia's ray of sunshine and friendship, JJ's comfort and thoughtfulness. She wondered if they still missed her, if she was still in their thoughts.

. . . . . . .

Emily had no idea how long she had been sat there when the door bell rang. Closing the album she picked her gun up and made her way to the apartment door. She was suspicious, as she obviously wasn't expecting anyone. As she passed the hallway mirror she tried to straighten herself out.

Looking through the peep hole she blinked, barely believing her eyes. Quickly she pulled the door open.

"Hi, do you know how hard it is to track you down?"

"That's kinda the whole idea," Emily smirked.

"True," JJ smiled, "but I have some news for you."

. . . . . . .

Settling on the couch, where Emily had just been reminiscing about her friends, she listened as JJ explained how Michelle had succeeded. That Doyle was dead and that Michelle was safe and well. Emily could come home.

JJ made it all sound so easy. Just pack everything back into the box and go. But Emily knew it wasn't that simple. She was dead, on paper anyway. _Who was going to tell her friends that she was alive? How would they take it? How would they react to JJ and Hotch__'__s lies?_

"Thank you," Emily took her friends hand, "but maybe its best I stay away."

JJ looked bewildered. She had fought to be the one to come out and tell Emily she was safe. She wanted to be the one to take her home again, back where she belonged.

"Em, please, don't push us away again," she squeezed her hand in encouragement, "I know it is not going to be easy, but it will be worth it, in the long run. We'll get there, together. Please!"

Emily's head dropped. This was what she had dreamed of, wished for, but could it work? _Could Emily Prentiss walk back into the lives of the BAU family? Could she rise from the ashes? _There was only one way to find out. Lifting her head, she nodded.

"Good job I hadn't finished unpacking," Emily smiled, looking at the empty box and the full suitcase beside it, "if I had it might have taken us a whole hour to pack, instead of thirty minutes."

"Good," JJ's turn to smile, "because it's wheels up in an hour!"

Emily laughed; she never thought she'd hear those words again.

. . . . . . .

I'm coming home  
>I'm coming home<br>Tell the World I'm coming home  
>Let the rain wash away all the pain of yesterday<p>

**Lyrics from 'Coming Home' by Diddy**


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